Night had descended upon Japan, its urban constellations glittering eight hours ahead of Nigeria's sunlit chaos. In the quiet confines of his quarters within the military complex, Kiligaku lay on his bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His body was still, but his mind whirred with calculations from the day's training.
Kaile's progress is no joke. She's closed a significant chunk of the gap. I wouldn't say we're equal, I've grown too but the margin is thinner. She pushed herself to the absolute limit in that realm. I held back, conserved. She didn't. And it shows. She's right on my heels now.
He let out a contemplative sigh, the sound loud in the silent room. It was cut short by a firm, distinct knock on his door. Frowning slightly, few people visited at this hour, he rose and opened it.
Standing in the hallway was a man he had not expected: Captain Hayate. The senior officer's presence was always a subtle pressure, a reminder of gravity and authority.
"Oh. I didn't expect you, sir. Please, come in." Kiligaku stepped aside, his military bearing instinctively tightening.
Hayate entered, his sharp eyes taking in the Spartan, meticulously organized space. Not a datapad out of place, not a speck of dust on the minimalist furniture. "You're quite the tidy soldier, I see. Good." His tone held a note of genuine approval.
Kiligaku felt a flicker of pride, quickly masked by formality. "Ah, thank you, sir."
Like all officers' quarters, the small apartment featured a modest living area with two sofas. Hayate settled onto one, and Kiligaku took the other, facing him.
"What brings you here, sir? Did I miss a mission briefing?" Kiligaku asked, his curiosity piqued.
"No, nothing official from Command," Hayate said, leaning back slightly, his expression turning serious. "This is a… personal concern. Something has come to my attention that I believe warrants a look before it festers into a real problem."
Kiligaku leaned forward, his full attention captured. "What's the problem, sir?"
Hayate was silent for a long moment, his gaze weighing the young soldier before him. "Kiligaku. Why do you think the number of citizens permitted to ascend to the Noosphere for Meta-Energy awakening is capped at five hundred per year? And why are the masses forbidden from simply walking in and becoming like us?"
It was a foundational question, one that drilled past policy into philosophy. Kiligaku studied Hayate's face, searching for the intent behind the query. "We were taught it's governed by international treaty," he began carefully. "To prevent any one nation from amassing overwhelming power. A global balance of power. Violating it is considered an act of war."
"Correct. That's the external, geopolitical reason," Hayate acknowledged, nodding slowly. "A check against global tyranny. But think internally. Within a nation's own borders. Do you believe that's the only catastrophe that would unfold if every citizen suddenly had access to such power?"
The implication was clear. Kiligaku's mind raced through the societal implications. "No," he answered, his voice lower. "Society is held together by a fragile consensus. Not everyone is… virtuous. Giving everyone the power to act on their darkest impulses without check? It would be anarchy. The state would collapse from within long before another nation needed to intervene. It would be the end of ordered civilization."
Hayate's expression was grave, his tone profound. "Exactly. It is a fast track to extinction. Which brings me to the matter at hand." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Rumors have reached me. Not from official channels, but from sources I've learned to trust. There are whispers of a movement here in Japan. A group of civilians actively plotting to bypass the laws. To seize Meta-Energy for themselves."
Kiligaku's eyes widened. "A plot? Has it been confirmed? And why now? What's driving them?"
"The 'why' is what I need you to find out," Hayate said, his gaze steady. "The rumors are credible enough to concern me. Tomorrow, they are supposedly holding a meeting. I will give you the location. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate, observe, and ascertain their motives and capabilities. This is not a combat order. It's an intelligence-gathering request. You are under no obligation."
Kiligaku didn't hesitate. "I'll look into it." The words were firm, immediate. He met Hayate's eyes. "A soldier's duty extends beyond assigned missions. It is to ensure the stability and safety of the nation by any means necessary. If this is a threat to that stability, it is my mission."
Hayate studied the young man's determined face, the unwavering resolve in his eyes. After a beat, the captain closed his eyes and smiled, a rare expression of deep satisfaction. "I see. I look forward to your report tomorrow, then."
He stood. Kiligaku moved to retrieve his keycard to open the door, but Hayate raised a hand. "No need."
With a casual, fluid motion of his hand, Hayate parted the very air in front of him. A silvery portal shimmered into existence, offering a glimpse of a different, darkened hallway beyond. He paused at the threshold and glanced back at Kiligaku.
"I could have entered this way initially," he said, a hint of dry humor in his voice. "But that would have been a rather rude invasion of your privacy, don't you think?" Without waiting for a reply, he stepped through, and the portal sealed behind him with a soft sigh of displaced air.
Kiligaku stood staring at the empty space, his mind churning. Civilians seeking power. If the rumors are strong enough to reach Captain Hayate's ears… they must have something. A plan, a backer, a method. What could possibly convince them it's achievable? He walked back to his bedroom, the weight of the unsanctioned mission settling on his shoulders. He threw himself back onto the bed.
"Let's just hope it's nothing," he muttered to the ceiling. Then another thought surfaced, tinged with concern for his friends far away. I wonder how Pathro and the others are faring. The world feels like it's tightening its grip these days.
---
Meanwhile, in an affluent district of Tokyo, Kaori sat cross-legged on her oversized bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face. She wore comfortable pink pajamas, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern luxury of her bedroom, a spacious, tastefully decorated suite that spoke of her family's considerable wealth without being ostentatious.
The quiet was broken by a specific, rhythmic knock on her door, two firm raps, a pause, then a third. She knew it instantly.
"You can come in, Dad," she called, not looking up from her game.
The door opened, and her father stepped in, still in his impeccably tailored business suit, a testament to his long hours. "And how was your day, my sweetheart?" he asked, his voice warm with paternal affection.
"It was fine, I guess. In a weird way," Kaori replied, finally pausing her game and setting the phone aside.
"'You guess'?" He took a seat in a plush armchair near her bed, his expression shifting to gentle concern. "Does that mean it wasn't particularly good?"
"No, not bad," she clarified, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to face him. "It's just… that meeting I went to today. It threw me off a bit."
Her father's eyebrows shot up. "A meeting? I wasn't aware you had one. I only instructed your driver to be at your disposal today."
Now it was Kaori's turn to be surprised. She met his gaze fully. "You didn't know? I thought… I assumed you'd arranged it. The invitation came from Yoshika's mother."
Understanding, and a shadow of old grief, passed over her father's features. "I see. And what was discussed at this meeting?"
"Well…" Kaori sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "It was about… that day. The Ichigan attack. But it wasn't just a memorial. They… they're planning to take legal action. They're filing a case on Monday to demand that citizens be granted the right to awaken Meta-Energy for themselves."
Her father stared, shock rendering him momentarily speechless. "What? On what grounds? Why would they possibly want that?"
"They said the soldiers failed in the duty we entrusted to them," Kaori explained, her voice quiet. "That if the professionals can't guarantee our safety, we should have the means to defend ourselves. They sounded… determined."
"Kaori, this is… profoundly misguided," her father said, passing a hand over his face. "It's not a matter of what Japan wants. International law is absolute on this. A nation cannot unilaterally empower its populace. It doesn't matter what internal failures might be cited. The global consequences would be immediate and severe." He looked at her intently. "Did you agree to be part of this?"
"No," Kaori said firmly, shaking her head. "I didn't say a word. I found the whole idea… frightening. But they seem convinced they can win in court."
Her father sighed, the sound heavy with weariness and sadness. "I can't blame them for their pain, for wanting agency. But this is a fantasy, and a dangerous one. It will only lead to more suffering. Are they meeting again?"
"Yes. Tomorrow afternoon, around two."
"You will not be going," he stated, his voice softening into a plea. "Please, Kaori. I don't want any part of this trouble touching you."
She looked into her father's worried eyes and offered a small, reassuring smile. "No, I wasn't planning to. I'm going to church with you tomorrow, remember? I want to keep the whole day… peaceful. Positive."
Relief washed over his features, and he returned her smile, the warmth reaching his eyes. "That's my girl. I'm proud of you." He stood, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We'll leave for church at eight. Be ready."
"Okay," she promised.
"Good night, my angel."
"Good night, Dad."
He closed the door softly behind him. Alone again, Kaori picked up her phone, but the game no longer held her interest. A quiet warmth spread through her at the thought of the next day. It's been so long since I went to church with Dad. It'll be just like the old days. The simple, happy anticipation was a welcome balm against the day's unsettling revelations. She smiled, a genuine, hopeful expression, and let the phone slip from her hands as she thought about the quiet sanctity of the morning to come.
— — —
Back in Nigeria, the harsh afternoon sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows through the dense forest canopy. The three black trucks, having left the chaotic urban sprawl of Abuja far behind, had devoured miles of highway before turning onto progressively rougher tracks. Finally, the last vestige of paved road vanished, and they lurched along a concealed dirt path known only to their drivers.
They arrived at a location that seemed to be nothing more than a particularly thick grove of ancient trees and tangled undergrowth. One of the lead men in black raised a device, and with a low, grinding hum, a massive section of the forest floor, a perfect rectangle of earth and root, descended on hydraulic pistons, revealing a steep, illuminated ramp leading into the earth. The trucks rolled down into the subterranean complex, and the entrance sealed seamlessly above them, leaving no trace of their passage. From the air, it was just another patch of untamed wilderness.
Inside, the base was a hive of sterile, utilitarian activity. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, illuminating concrete corridors and heavy metal doors. Every operative moved with purpose, their identities concealed not just from the outside world, but from each other, hidden behind identical black masks and uniforms. Anonymity was the first rule of the cell.
The trucks rumbled into a vast, echoing garage bay. Immediately, teams of black-clad figures swarmed the containers. The doors were thrown open, revealing the piled, senseless forms of students and teachers. The operatives worked with a brutal, assembly-line efficiency, hauling the bodies out one by one.
Pathro and Toshiro, their limbs limp, played their parts perfectly. The mission's first objective, locating the base was achieved. Now began the second, more delicate phase: mapping the prison. They allowed themselves to be manhandled, their heads lolling.
Each prisoner was fitted with heavy, reinforced metal cuffs around their wrists before being carried away. Pathro felt the cold steel clamp shut on his own wrists with finality. He and Toshiro were then separated, taken down different branching corridors, their minds silently recording turns, door counts, and ambient sounds.
Pathro was carried into a large, foul-smelling cell. The door clanged shut behind his handlers, and he was dumped unceremoniously onto the cold concrete floor amidst other unconscious new arrivals. As the footsteps of the guards receded, he allowed his eyes to open to the narrowest of slits.
The sight that greeted him sent a bolt of cold fury straight through his core.
Huddled against the far wall of the cell were the missing girls from Immaculate Girls Secondary School. Their once-pristine uniforms were now torn and stained with dirt and dried blood. Their faces, gaunt and etched with terror, were marked with bruises and the tracks of old tears. They clung to each other, a tableau of pure, animal fear, watching with wide, hopeless eyes as yet more unconscious bodies were added to their hell. The arrival of new victims only reinforced their nightmare.
Pathro's heart hammered against his ribs, a drumbeat of rage. He saw the hollow look in their eyes, the tremors that wracked their thin frames, the way they flinched at the sound of the heavy door. They had been broken, not just imprisoned.
These monsters... The thought was a white-hot brand in his mind. Look what they've done. They've stolen their light. He forced his breathing to remain slow and shallow, the model of unconsciousness, but behind his closed lids, his mind was a storm of violent promise.
They will pay, he vowed, the oath silent and absolute. For every bruise, for every moment of terror. I will dismantle this place piece by piece. I swear it. I will make sure of it.